Mixed Messages
by firstcatfish
Summary: When Sam gets sick while on a hunt, Dean learns some things he probably needed to know. Set post 5x05, Fallen Idols


**Title:** Mixed Messages

**Rating:** K

**Warnings:** None, unless you count a superfluous amount of sappiness

**Summary:** When Sam gets sick while on a hunt, Dean learns some things he probably needed to know. Set post 5x05, _Fallen Idols_

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the characters, just playing. The words in italics are taken from the episode 4x22, _Lucifer Rising_. This is unbeta'd, so my apologies for any errors.

**A/N:** I don't like it when the boys keep secrets from each other. Too often they don't explain why they did things that hurt the other and open wounds tend to fester. So, this is my attempt to fix some of it. Enjoy.

**-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-**

A steady drip, drip, drip echoed from the low hanging cypress trees providing a percussion counterpoint to the chorus of insects sounding from the swamp lands. Dusk was fast approaching and the occasional cry of a night bird echoed in the peaceful stillness. Moments later, the muggy mist transitioned into a gentle rainfall, the drops pattering across the stagnant waters. In a nest of intertwining branches and swamp grass, an egret fluffed her feathers and gazed contentedly out across the bayou. A crocodile, small for its kind, lay in the mud, enjoying the tickle of the raindrops on its back.

A splash and a sharp curse broke the stillness of the scene. The egret took flight with a screech and the croc slithered silently into the waters of the swamp as the two men splashed nearer, the one in the lead cursing up a blue streak, while the taller one followed silently behind, focusing his attention on his footing so as not to get any wetter than he already was.

Sam allowed a small smile to flitter across his face as he listened to his grumpy and uncomfortable brother forge through the waters ahead of him. It was amazing that Dean could be so quiet during the hunt and yet so noisy when the danger was past. It was almost as though he were reminding the universe that he existed and deserved some attention…now.

Sam, on the other hand, thought he would be just as happy if the universe and perhaps even his brother forgot he existed for a while. Things had been better between them since their encounter with Leshii, the forest god of the Balkans, but they had a long way to go toward rebuilding the trust between them. Until then, Sam had resolved to stay out of the limelight as much as possible. As long as Dean was willing to listen to him on hunts and acknowledge him as a professional equal, he was willing to step back and allow his brother to take the lead in most areas of their lives. He owed him that.

A sudden sneeze jolted him to a stop and he shook his head blearily before trudging after his brother. On the other hand, he kind of wished he had objected to this hunt. Since Dean had deemed them ready to begin hunting again, it had been one hunt after another with little chance to rest and regroup between.

Sam sighed. His brother had always been like that. When there was tension between them or memories he would rather forget, he threw himself into hunting. Thinking back to his own behavior after Jessica's death and especially after Dean's…he shied away from that painful thought…he had to admit that he was the same way. It was just easier to face the hunt than to confront the figurative demons that possessed their thoughts and memories.

Nevertheless, this hunt had been a bust…long hours of trudging through wet, sucking mud to discover what the locals already knew. The deaths had been caused by a monster of a croc lurking deep in the swamps…dangerous, but not their kind of playmate. It had made Dean grumpy and irritable and Sam admitted, if only to himself, that he felt much the same, although he was much less vocal about it.

On top of that, he was getting sick. He lifted his arm and coughed into the crook of his elbow, then massaged the bridge of his nose to ease the building headache. No, not getting…he was sick, had been for several days if he was honest with himself. He was fairly sure that Dean would have postponed the hunt if Sam had told him he wasn't feeling up to it, but Sam had stayed quiet. He wasn't sure what he feared more, the look of impatience and disappointment on Dean's face that Sam couldn't keep up or the fact that his brother might decide to leave him behind and go do the hunt on his own.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and shivered, wondering how it was possible to be both hot and cold at the same time. The air was fairly cool for the swamps and his wet clothes didn't help matters any. On the other hand, the 100% humidity gave the impression of a sweltering summer day. He felt like he was trying to breathe underwater. Coughing again, he continued splashing after his older brother, the water and mud making a nauseating squelching, sucking sound every time he lifted his boots.

He lost track of time. He knew they had hiked several hours into the bayou, but he wasn't sure how much farther they had to go to get back to dry land and the Impala. He considered calling ahead to ask Dean, but with the mood his brother was in, he probably wouldn't get a reply.

In a few minutes maybe he would request a break, just so he could catch his second wind. He could barely see straight he was so tired, although he blamed that less on the trek into the swamp and more on the fact that he had been getting three maybe four hours of sleep a night since he had rejoined his brother. He feared his dreams now more than he ever had before, and not just because of the nightmares, though they were plentiful. Lucifer hadn't found his dreams again, but Sam thought maybe it was less because he couldn't and more because he was biding his time, waiting for Sam to become more vulnerable than he already was.

He stumbled and his hands splashed into the water lapping around his hips. He wondered briefly when it had gotten so deep. Attempting another step forward, he raised his eyebrows in bemusement when he realized he was on his knees. He looked up to see his brother's back moving away from him through the tendrils of fog slipping like reaching fingers across the surface of the water. He really should call out to him, to let him know he was just going to rest a few minutes and then he would catch up. He would call out, just as soon as he caught his breath. Coughing, he leaned against the trunk of a nearby cypress tree and closed his eyes. Just another minute and then he would continue. Just another moment…

**-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-**

Dean trudged wearily through the swamp, occasionally muttering a curse when his foot caught on something. This whole hunt had been a fiasco. He wouldn't have taken it at all if he hadn't needed to prove a point. Growling under his breath, he tossed an irritated glance over his shoulder at his little brother. Sam moved sluggishly behind him, shoulders bowed and head lowered, pausing briefly to cough into his elbow.

The idiot was sick…had been for almost a week now. Dean had been patiently waiting for Sam to say something so they could hole up somewhere until he was feeling better. He had promised his brother to treat him as an equal and to extend him some trust. That meant trusting him to tell Dean when he wasn't up to a hunt or needed to take some time off. Instead, the stubborn jackass kept pressing forward, accepting any hunt, any job Dean gave him to do without a murmur of complaint.

He had been sure his little brother would finally break down and admit he was sick when Dean had announced the next hunt would involve hours of hiking through the swamps in search of a creature they weren't even sure was there. Sam was clearly running a fever and exhausted from too many nights waking up with a start from nightmares Dean could all too clearly imagine. It had taken everything he had to push aside his big brother instincts and continue to pretend he didn't notice. Sam wanted his independence. He didn't want Dean to tell him what to do or how to take care of himself, so Dean had clenched his teeth and done his best to ignore the issue, determined to let it go until Sam fessed up or it became a safety issue.

Kicking at a root hidden beneath the grey green water, he cursed viciously, startling a bird nesting nearby. He realized his plan of action wasn't working so well. Instead of telling Dean that he wasn't 100% and admitting he needed some time off to recover, Sam had poured everything he had left into this hunt, not complaining even when it became obvious the creature they were hunting wasn't supernatural at all and the whole thing had been a waste of time and energy. As soon as they got back to the motel, Dean was going to force the issue. He'd sit his stubborn little brother down and let him know that if Sam wanted Dean to trust him with the big things, he needed to be honest about the little things as well.

Stopping momentarily to pull out his compass and check their location, Dean confirmed what his innate sense of direction had already told him. The path out of the swamp should be just around that giant cypress ahead. He longed for the comfort of his Baby as much as he wanted a shower, clean clothes and some rest. However, his instincts were suddenly clamoring, telling him that something was wrong. He stiffened, reaching for his gun as he listened intently to the swamp noises around him. The rain and a light fog settling around him made it difficult to spot what was wrong.

Turning his head to ask if Sam sensed anything, the bottom dropped out of his stomach. His little brother was not behind him where he had been the whole trek through this stupid place. Spinning in a circle, Dean scanned the area all around him, looking for the hulking shadow of his sasquatch of a brother.

"Sam?" he called, swallowing his worry. His brother had probably just fallen behind a bit and would come splashing up in a moment, tossing Dean an irritated look for being such a mother hen. A night bird called and a bullfrog croaked from nearby. Off to his left, there was a splash as something large plopped into the water. Grabbing his flashlight from the pack strung over his shoulder, he shone the light in that direction. A ridged back that might have been a crocodile slithered away from him into the gloom.

"Sam!" he yelled, getting angry, his heart thumping madly in his chest. He heard a faint murmur or maybe a groan back the way they had come, and he began splashing frantically in that direction, his light bobbing and flashing as he searched for his brother.

Tripping over something in the water, he nearly took a nosedive. He caught himself on a nearby tree and looked down automatically to see what he had hit. He gasped when he saw his little brother, slumped against the tree, long legs stretched out in the water.

"Sam?" he said shakily, dropping to his knees in the smelly water and reaching out to check his brother's pulse. His skin was hot and clammy, his heartbeat racing under Dean's fingers. He didn't stir at either his brother's voice or touch.

"Sam, c'mon. You need to wake up here," Dean said, lightly slapping Sam's face. "We're almost to the car, little brother. I'm gonna be ticked if you make me carry you out of here."

Rubbing his knuckles firmly over Sam's sternum, he breathed a sigh of relief as his brother jerked and groaned, his eyelashes fluttering. "You with me, buddy?"

"Dean?" Sam murmured in confusion. "What happened?" He brought his hand up to rub at his chest.

"You passed out on me," Dean remarked flatly, his lips tight and eyebrows drawn. "When were you planning on telling me you're too sick to hunt, huh?" His tone was angry, though all he really felt was worry and exasperation at both himself and Sam for letting it go this far.

Sam didn't look at him, but even in the dark, Dean could see the flush that wasn't just fever. "I thought I could handle it," he muttered guiltily, "and I didn't want to let you down."

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath to hold back the angry retort he wanted to give to that. "C'mon, let's get you up," he said instead. "The car's not far. We'll go back to the hotel, get cleaned up and then figure out what's what."

Sam made no complaint as Dean helped lever him to his feet and then slung one of his arms over his shoulders to provide support for the rest of the short walk to the car.

**-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-**

Dean's head snapped up at the low moan and deep coughing from the other room. Squeezing the cloth out quickly, he moved back into the main bedroom and over to his brother's side. Sam was twisting under his blankets, caught in some fever dream and trying desperately to throw it off. His features were pale with two spots of color high on his cheekbones, evidence of heat burning within.

"Easy, Sam," Dean said quietly, placing a hand on his sibling's chest to soothe him and using the other to wipe the cool cloth over Sam's face. Flipping it over, he laid it over his brother's forehead for a moment as he checked the bags of ice he had wrapped in towels and put under Sam's arms in an effort to bring the fever down. Sam had quieted at his touch and was once again sleeping deeply.

Sitting back in the chair he had dragged to his brother's bedside, Dean sighed deeply and dared to close his eyes for a moment. Sam had managed to make it out of the swamp under his own power, though he was barely conscious by the time they reached the motel room. Only his deep hacking coughs kept him awake, and Dean didn't miss the grimace of pain each time he did so.

He had chivvied his brother into taking a quick shower to clean off and warm up, then bullied him into taking some cold medicine and antibiotics before going straight to bed. He was worried that what had been a simple cold had been aggravated by exhaustion and the damp trek through the mire into something worse, bronchitis or possibly even pneumonia.

He wasn't happy with the antibiotics they had on hand as they were relatively weak and intended more for injury related infections. However, they were all he had, so they would have to do unless Sam got worse. Then he would have to decide whether to drag his reluctant brother to the hospital or find a way to 'acquire' stronger drugs. For now, although Sam's fever was high, it was remaining stable and under control with just the Tylenol and the bags of ice.

Hearing Sam mumble something, Dean wearily opened his eyes. His brother was still asleep, just talking quietly to himself. He was prone to that when under the influence of a fever. When they were children, Dean had teased his brother unmercifully for some of the strange things he came up with while sick. The last few times Sam had gotten sick enough to talk in his sleep, however, his ramblings had been anything but funny…fear of the future and sorrow for the past coloring his unconscious words.

"Ruby," Sam murmured, tossing his head to the left, and Dean stiffened. "I don't want…don' wanna hurt him." Dean leaned forward and massaged between his eyes. No effort needed to know what that was about.

"No!" Sam cried out, beginning to thrash again. "Dean, please…"

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean spoke quietly, once again laying his hand on Sam's chest to quiet him. To his surprise, Sam turned toward him and opened fever bright eyes. When he spotted Dean, sitting beside him, his eyes filled with tears.

"I'm sorry, Dean," he said hoarsely, a hiccup in his voice.

"I know you are, Sammy. I know." Dean grabbed the cloth and flipped it to the cool side before patiently wiping his little brother's face again. Sam's breathing was ragged and he coughed violently, curling up against the force of the hacking. Dean rubbed his back gently until the coughing subsided, then took the cloth once more to the bathroom to rinse in cold water. On his way back, he poured some water in the coffee pot and turned it on. There were some complimentary tea bags with the coffee on the tray and he thought he might be able to get Sam to drink some of that to soothe his throat.

Sinking back into his chair, he found Sam still awake and watching him through bleary eyes. Placing the cool cloth back on his brother's forehead, he said gently, "Hey there. Think you can drink something if I sit you up? It's time for more meds, too."

Sam nodded without speaking and did his best to help his brother to move him up against the headboard. Dumping some pills out of the bottle, he pressed them into Sam's hand along with a bottle of water. Then he went to pour some of the hot water into one of the cheap Styrofoam cups before adding a teabag and a packet of sugar.

When he returned, Sam was leaning against the headboard with his eyes closed. The pills were gone, though the water bottle remained loosely in his grasp. Dean placed it on the bedside table, before wrapping his brother's hands around the warm cup and helping him to drink.

He managed about half of the tea before succumbing once more to exhaustion. Dean put the cup aside and helped him wriggle back down among the tangled sheets and blankets, removing the mostly melted bags of ice and placing them on the floor. He would need to replace them later if Sam's temperature remained high.

"Dean?" The hoarse question took him by surprise as he was straightening the sheet. He had expected Sam to go immediately back to sleep.

"Yeah?" he replied, smoothing his hand over his brother's legs before sitting back in the chair.

"Do you hate me?" Dean jerked a little at that, frowning fiercely as he met his little brother's eyes. The pain and guilt he saw there melted some of his anger and he sighed deeply, closing his eyes briefly.

"No, Sam," he replied tiredly. "I could never hate you, no matter what you do."

"But you're still mad," Sam croaked, his eyes stubbornly searching Dean's face even as he curled on his side to face his brother.

"A little, I guess." He wished Sam would leave it alone. Some things should remain in the past. Talking about it would just bring back the feelings of disappointment and betrayal he had worked hard to put to rest since accepting his brother back into his life.

"I never wanted her, you know…" Sam closed his eyes, finishing on a murmur, "over you."

Naked pain flared briefly on Dean's face and he clenched his jaw and his fists tightly to get it under control. After a moment, he swallowed, stinging eyes on his brother's sleeping form.

"Then why?" he found himself whispering, almost without realizing it. "Why did you…?" His voice broke slightly on the question. He had promised himself he would never ask that, even though it burned like acid inside his gut every time he thought about Sam leaving him on the floor of that hotel room to run off with Ruby. It didn't matter; Sam was asleep again and likely wouldn't remember this in the morning anyway. He turned, organizing the meds and supplies on the bedside table without really seeing what he was doing.

"Expendable." The croaked reply surprised him again and his eyes darted back to the bed to find Sam staring back at him. He coughed roughly before explaining, "I couldn't choose you. I didn't expect to make it out of there alive and if you came with me, I was afraid…" He coughed again, closing his eyes and wincing in pain before continuing, "I needed the blood Ruby could give me and as a partner, she was…expendable."

Sam burrowed his head into his pillow and closed his eyes again, which was just as well since Dean couldn't have come up with a response right then to save his life.

"I almost changed my mind, though," Sam murmured, pain, more emotional than physical this time, tightening his lips and squeezing his already closed eyes. "I was so close to ditching her and going back for you." He paused so long Dean thought he was finished speaking. Then, "I wish I had never listened to that message." Suddenly, Sam flipped over so that his back was to Dean and pulled the blanket up to his ears, effectively signaling the end to that conversation.

Dean leaned back, completely confused and hurting if he were to be honest. What message? Knowing that his brother had been close to aborting his suicide mission made him wonder if the peace offering he had left on Sam's voice mail had played a part in that. But if so, what was the other message that had caused him to change his mind and continue with the destructive path he had chosen. Who would have that kind of power over his brother?

His eyes strayed to Sam's phone, sitting on the nightstand next to his own. What were the odds…? Glancing at his sleeping brother, he reached over and picked up the phone, finger hesitating over the button that would call voicemail.

Standing up, he checked his brother once more before moving to the door and slipping silently outside. Somehow he didn't want to do this in the same room as Sam. Calling voicemail, he entered his brother's password and waited.

"_You have no new messages. You have one saved message. To listen to the saved messages press 3."_

Dean impatiently stabbed at the button, then lifted the phone once more to his ear. His eyes widened in horror and rising fury as he listened to his own voice come through the speaker.

"_Listen to me, you blood sucking freak. Dad always said I'd either have to save you or kill you. Well, I'm giving you fair warning. I'm done trying to save you. You're a monster, Sam—A vampire. You're not you anymore. And there's no going back."_

**-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-**

Dean didn't look up at the flutter of wings beside him. He sat with his back against the motel, hands between his drawn up knees cradling a phone.

"You called?" Castiel asked, neutral voice showing only a tinge of curiosity. When he had answered the phone, he had been surprised by the controlled anger in the hunter's voice as he had given their location and ordered him to "zap his feathery ass here immediately."

Without answering, Dean called voicemail and once more retrieved the saved message before handing the phone to the angel. Taking the device, Cas listened for a moment, his eyes closing in sudden understanding. Pressing the power button to end the call, he sat down beside his human friend, wondering how to handle this situation.

"Did you know?" Dean asked hoarsely, pain reflected in his voice.

"I did not know what Zachariah had in mind specifically," Castiel responded slowly. He had wondered when this would come up. "I knew only that once you forced Sam into withdrawal, certain things would be set in motion to ensure he went to his appointed fate."

Reading the guilt in the young hunter's expression correctly, he tried his best to assuage it. "No matter what you tried you couldn't have stopped it, Dean. Zachariah had every move planned from the moment he ordered me to let Sam out of the panic room."

Cas wondered if he had made a mistake admitting to that. He flinched slightly as Dean's red rimmed eyes rose to meet his, fury and accusation burning as bright as hot coals in the depths of his eyes. He could only hold that gaze for a moment before looking away. He wondered if the twist in his stomach and the flash of heat in his face had anything to do with the emotion guilt. He wouldn't put it past Dean to try stabbing him again just on principle.

"Can you fix it?" Dean's voice was tightly controlled and Castiel looked back at him in surprise. The anger was by no means gone. In fact, his expression promised retribution if the angel didn't do something to make amends.

"Dean, as much as I would like to go back into the past and change my actions, you know that…" he trailed off when Dean pointed to the phone in his hands with a sharp, impatient shake of his head.

"Fix the message, so that it says what I meant it to say," the hunter clarified, a muscle in his jaw jumping.

Turning his attention to the phone, Castiel could just barely feel the remnants of the power Zachariah had used. If the message had been permanently changed, there would be nothing he could do, but if it had simply been cloaked…Closing his eyes, he extended his own grace and smiled at Zachariah's preference for quick and easy over permanence.

Handing the phone back to Dean, he watched as the man put it to his ear and listened to the message now that the deception had been removed. Nodding in apparent acceptance, Dean got to his feet. Castiel rose as well and opened his mouth to say something, probably an attempt at an apology for his actions, but the hunter turned his back on him, opened the motel room door and disappeared inside, shutting the door firmly behind him.

With a sigh, the angel shook his head once before disappearing to continue his search.

**-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-**

Sam woke slowly to the sound of murmuring voices at the door and a delicious smell that set his stomach to rumbling. He was warm and comfortable, though, and he was loath to move. The headache and full body aches had mostly disappeared, and the tightness in his chest was bearable if not gone. Opening his eyes, he blearily searched the room until he found his brother standing at the table near the door looking through a bag and pulling out some Styrofoam containers.

Coughing to relieve some of the residual tension in his chest, he struggled to push himself up against the headboard. Dean heard him and turned, a smile lighting his face. The relief in his big brother's eyes made Sam wonder how long he had been out of it.

"Hey, I was hoping you'd wake up soon," Dean said, coming over with one of the containers and a plastic spoon. "Turns out the manager's son isn't opposed to earning a bit of cash delivering food to people like us. I had him pick up some soup for you from the diner a couple blocks away. You feel up to eating something?"

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but all he could manage was a hoarse squeak. Scowling at the suppressed laughter on his brother's face, he held out a hand for the bowl. Relenting, Dean handed it over, helping him to carefully pull off the lid before heading back to the table and his own dinner.

Taking a bite of the chicken noodle soup, he closed his eyes and sighed in delight. The broth felt wonderful on his scratchy throat, and the warmth helped ease the congestion in his chest. He focused all his attention on eating while his energy lasted. When he finally slowed down, the bowl mostly empty, he started a bit when his brother appeared beside him to remove the container and replace it with some pills and a bottle of water. He scowled at the pills. He hated cold medicine. It smelled horrible and left a terrible aftertaste. And if he wasn't mistaken, the large white horse pill was an antibiotic.

"C'mon, Sam," his brother said, shaking the hand with the pills more insistently. "Don't fight me on this. I don't think you developed full blown pneumonia, but it was close for a while, so humor me and take the meds."

With a disgruntled sigh, he took the pills and tossed them back with some water before scooching back down in the bad. He wanted a shower, badly, but he didn't think he had the energy to stand that long yet and there was no way he was getting Dean's help with that. Instead, he watched his brother move around the room, disposing of the supper dishes then turning on the TV and flopping onto his bed.

Dean looked different. He had dark circles under his eyes that spoke of too little sleep while caring for his sick sibling, but that wasn't it. His expression seemed lighter, his posture more relaxed, as though some of the tension from the past few weeks had melted away.

Frowning, Sam searched his memory for what could have happened to bring about that change. He didn't remember much beyond forcing himself into the motel room after making it out of the swamp. He had a vague memory of nightmares, mostly about the night at the convent when he had inadvertently destroyed his world. He winced at the memory, and quick as a thought, Dean was beside him.

"You okay?"

Sam hadn't even realized his brother had been watching him. He nodded without opening his eyes, glad his voice had deserted him. He also sort of remembered talking with Dean about Ruby, though he didn't remember exactly what had been said. He felt his cheeks burn in mortification and renewed guilt.

"Sam?" there was worry in his brother's tone, worry he didn't deserve.

Opening his eyes, he met his brother's gaze. Dean's look was solemn, knowing.

"While I was sick," Sam managed to croak in a hoarse whisper, "Did I…I mean, what did…?" He stopped, not knowing how to broach the subject. Dean moved away from his side, returning a minute later with a cup of hot tea which Sam took gratefully and began to sip.

"You've been in and out for about two days now. It's been all I could do to keep your fever down and keep you hydrated."

"Did I say anything?" Sam was well aware of his tendency to ramble while under the influence of a fever. He cringed at the thought of giving Dean any new reasons to hate or mistrust him.

"You told me about the phone message," Dean said bluntly, and Sam flinched. "And you explained why you chose Ruby over me," he continued more softly.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered, dropping his eyes again in shame.

"Don't be. If nothing else, it helped me realize the full extent of how badly we were played." Sam looked up in confusion as Dean rose and crossed to the table. Retrieving something lying there, he walked back between the beds and tossed the item in Sam's lap. Sam set his tea aside and picked up his phone, looking at his brother uncomprehendingly.

"Listen to it again, Sam," Dean urged and Sam felt his already tight chest tighten further from the pain that message had caused. He gave a slight shake of his head. He didn't want to hear why Dean had said what he had. What was important was that they were getting past that, learning to trust one another again. Nothing would be gained by reopening old wounds. If he hadn't been so sick…

With a huff of impatience, Dean snatched the phone from his fingers and dialed up voice mail. He handed it back with a stubborn look on his face and Sam reluctantly took it and held it up to his ear.

"_Hey, it's me…uh…Look, I'll just get right to it. I'm still pissed, and I owe you a serious beatdown, but…I shouldn't have said what I said. You know, I'm not Dad. We're brothers, you know. We're family, and, uh…no matter how bad it gets, that doesn't change. Sammy, I'm sor…"_

Sam's eyes were burning as he listened and he closed them to try to prevent the tears he knew were threatening. He shook his head in denial at what his ears were telling him.

"That's not…" he tried, before breaking down in a coughing fit. Dean's hand rubbed soothing circles on his back until he could breathe again, his chest heaving with the effort of holding back coughs and emotion.

"I know," Dean replied, picking up the thread of the conversation. "I heard what you heard and confronted Cas about it. Apparently, Zachariah had the whole thing orchestrated right up to and including letting you out of the panic room before you were done detoxing," Dean's voice hardened in anger at this and Sam flinched again, wary of both the memory and the direction of his brother's anger. When Dean continued speaking, though, his tone had gentled a bit. "The phone call was a last ditch effort, I guess, a fall back plan to drive us apart permanently in case you showed any signs of changing your mind. And I played right into it, did exactly what they expected." The anger was back along with a healthy dose of self-recrimination.

"Not just you," Sam whispered, unable to gain any more volume without starting another coughing attack.

"I know. We were both played," Dean stood up and paced away a bit, his back to Sam before continuing. "And while that doesn't change anything…doesn't erase choices we both made…it kinda makes it better, you know? At least I know…" He trailed off, but he didn't need to finish. Sam understood just fine.

Knowing that his brother didn't hate him, that he hadn't irreversibly destroyed a relationship that was more important to him than anything else in the world…

"Yeah," he croaked in agreement.

"Anyway…" Dean cleared his throat before turning and coming back to Sam's side, "I wanted you to know, and, uh…" he looked down, twisting his ring, before his jaw firmed and he looked up in determination. "I told you before, but I doubt you remember. I don't think you are a monster, I will never be done trying to save you, and nothing you could ever do can make me hate you…Feel disappointed, yes; Angry, definitely, but hate…no." He held Sam's gaze until Sam gave a tiny nod. Giving a firm nod in return, he moved away to dig around in his duffel.

"Now that the chick flick moment is dispensed with, I'm gonna go take a shower," he said over his shoulder as he moved toward the bathroom. "You should probably get some more rest, see if you can kick this cold."

As the door clicked softly closed behind his brother, Sam burrowed deeper into his covers. He let out a deep sigh, feeling as though the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He was still sick. The world was still in danger of ending because of him. But with Dean on his side, he couldn't help but feel as though the impossible had become possible once more. It had taken the combined efforts of angels and demons to temporarily divide them, but now that they were back together again, they would once again be a force to be reckoned with. They would fix this mess, and no matter what it took, if they stuck together, he had complete faith that they would come through it stronger on the other side.

**The End**


End file.
